


a guy like you should wear a warning

by Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep



Category: Venom (Movie 2018), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Other, a fic where magneto gets made fun of and then he takes a nap, like four things at once honestly, when you are an x man you get possessed and die a lot and it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep/pseuds/Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep
Summary: One does get accustomed to being possessed, to having your body not be your own.Wow, you’re kind of fucked up, huh,it says cheerfully.Magneto and the Venom symbiote just kind of chill in Magneto's body.





	a guy like you should wear a warning

**Author's Note:**

> I liked Venom the movie so obviously I wrote Magneto fic about it. 
> 
> Uhhh I guess this fic takes place in some kind of blend between 616 and the Venom movie verse, but like, don't worry about it.
> 
> Warning for discussion of self-harm.

He wakes up, and his wounds are gone.

 

Erik reaches for a knife with his powers and holds it at his own throat. “Get out.”

 

Last night, he had stumbled into the building basically at random, picked an apartment he could sense no moving metal in, and passed out on the couch with his helmet on, blood smeared down his front. He’d sealed the door with an improvised barricade, but he knows better than most how easy it is to wake up with something new inside you.

 

 **Interesting** , the thing says.

 

The presence is heavy in his limbs and muscles, but doesn’t grasp the part of him that moves metal, he catalogues. One does get accustomed to being possessed, to having your body not be your own. There’s practically a protocol. He presses the knife deeper, feels a hot line of skin parting.

 

Gray, dripping, flesh somehow emerges out from the back of his hand and snatches the knife away from his neck. Erik doesn’t fight for it. He’s sure that he could drain his own blood out with just his powers if he needed to.

 

 **Wow, you’re kind of fucked up, huh,** it says cheerfully. Alarmingly, its tone reminds him of Emma Frost, and so he doesn’t dignify it with a response. **I could stop you from destroying your body that way, you know. Probably. Haven’t tried to keep blood** **_in_ ** **a human before.** It licks his neck, manifesting some kind of ridged, flexible tongue. He swears he feels teeth scrape at his throat for a moment. **You’re tasty though**.

 

 _I’m not a human_ , Erik thinks mildly, deliberately ignoring the rest. He flicks his helmet off and sets it on the dusty side table. No point wearing it now that something has taken his mind already, and this will make it faster for Emma or Elizabeth or Jean or-- Well, surely some psionic will eventually sense his predicament and oust the intruder. It’s a stalling game until then.

 

 **You’ve pissed off a lot of people,** it says as Erik involuntarily feels himself think about every telepath he’s ever met. The thing’s mental voice is a deep growl, but it manages to sound chirpy. **Very virile of you**.

 

 _What do you want?_ Erik grits out.

 

The thing nearly physically extracts itself from where it’s crawled into all of Erik’s recent arguments with Scott. It probably is physically in his brain in some sense. Hmm. Messy.

 

 **Ah, right,** it says. **Your mind is far more partitioned that most humans. Easy to get lost in** . It sounds almost sheepish. **I suppose I’ll just….have you seen this human?**

 

Erik feels a silvery tendril of the thing wriggle out from under his collar at the nape of his neck and shape itself into a bust of a sweaty Caucasian man. Not any of the ones he’s dealt with.

 

_No._

 

 **Hmm** , the thing growls.

 

 _Hmm,_ Erik agrees. He clearly has nothing to offer it, so it will kill him or leave now. It’s almost relaxing to have it taken out of his hands. He’s died before. It wasn’t too bad.

 

 **I need us to wait here for Eddie, don’t be such a dramatic little bitch.** A tentacle cuffs him gently upside the head. **We should have a snack,** the thing says.

 

Erik mentally raises his eyebrows. _If you’re speaking of food, I have chocolates in the leftmost pouch on my hip._

 

Nearly instantly, his hand involuntarily goes to the chocolates, pops one in his mouth and lets the marshmallow spread over his tongue.

 

 **What are these?** The creature makes his tongue wriggle against his palate. **Eddie never got us these**.

 

 _European,_ Erik thinks, which is what he always says to excuse some oddity of his being. True, and moot, in this case. The thing uses his hands to grab more candies, and then directs his tongue to lick off the chocolate that’s melted into his gloves until all traces of sugar are in his stomach. It ripples under his skin in silent delight for a moment.

 

 **You should relax a little**. It sprawls out his legs, untenses his muscles, pillows the side of his face into the scratchy couch back.

 

“I’m relaxed.” To his surprise, he’s permitted to say it out loud, slurred through his mouth.

 

 **You could relax even more,** it purrs **. I think you’ve played nice enough that you deserve it, don’t you?**

 

“The concept of anyone deserving anything is rather-” Erik starts. The thing outright shushes him and starts sending tingling tendrils of ooze crawling through his scalp and into his curls.

 

 **Good boy. Good puppy.** Well, that was more than he needed to know about its relationship with its usual host, he supposes. But having his head touched--in a physical sense--makes something in him clench shamefully. He can’t remember the last time anyone has tried.

 

He meditates on the feeling of the thing on his tongue, and then he falls asleep for longer than he can say.

 

He dreams--he thinks he dreams--of hands at his temples.

 

He wakes up, and there is a sweaty Caucasian man screaming at him.

 

“Holy shit, you’re Magneto! You’re like a terrorist!” The strange man fists his hand in his hair as he paces. “Shit, no, that was judgey, I’m working on that.”

 

He stumbles up to Erik, puts one knee in close between his legs on the corduroy couch. Erik feels his breath come faster even though he’s clearly stronger than this nervous human.

 

“Hey, uh...can you make a move here?” says the man, and before Erik can _make a move_ of pinning him to the walls with his pocket change, his body leans in and drops a kiss on his forehead.

 

An entire afternoon of companionate being passes out between his teeth, and finally, Erik’s body is his own again. He licks his lips. Well. It’ll do.

 

 **“Fuck,”** says the newly combined man-creature. **“That must have been weird, sorry.”** He grabs Erik around the waist with one enormous slimy claw and drags him along to the window. **“I’ll get you my number, I’d love to interview you sometime, but I just think we need some quality time to ourselves right now.”** And with that, Erik is tossed outside.

 

He catches himself with his magnetism before he hits the concrete, gently sets his the soles of his boots on the ground. His knees aren’t what they used to be after all, even with the new bodies.

 

_Alright, old friend?_

 

He pulls his cape around him and starts walking to the nearest train station. _You really couldn’t have come a few hours earlier, Charles?_

 

 _Terribly sorry,_ he blithely says in Erik’s head, the same way he apologizes for everything, from being late for dinner to condemning all of mutantkind. _We’re all no worse for wear though, are we?_

 

 _No. We never are_.

 

He lets Charles ride along in him for another hour before, without warning, he’s alone again. 


End file.
